


The Hunt

by TheEvangelion



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Anya, Alpha Lexa, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Breeding, F/F, Girl Penis, Girl Penis Anya, Girl Penis Lexa, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Clarke, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, The Conclave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvangelion/pseuds/TheEvangelion
Summary: After the old commander dies, Lexa is summoned to conclave for the selection of the new Heda from the Alpha nightbloods. They will fight to claim the winning Omega fresh from the Wanheda conclave within the sealed walls of Mount Weather until either only one Alpha remains or the new Wanheda is mated.Together, they will rule and answer only to one another and bear nightblood children who will one day fight for the throne. There's just one problem. Not only did the Skaikru girl with no nightblood in her veins win her conclave... she killed her competition faster than any Wanheda in history.





	1. Chapter I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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There's a low rumbling in the room that Lexa blocks out, hesitant and thoughtful, she exists in her thoughts and counts the Nightbloods drip in one by one, tired from their travels from the vast corners of the world. The headcount reaches twelve, three more than she knew existed, before the chief beta stomps through the room with violent steps that earn an attentive silence from all of them.

The rumours already ran rampant through Polis for days. Lexa caught word from Anya who in turn caught word from a bedmate, who in turn caught word from the right-hand to the throne that the Heda was ill with black fever. 

But in the moment of silence that follows Indra's footsteps to the front of the throne room, Lexa lives her entire life, dreams of wheat fields beneath lilac skies and the smiles of a girl she could have loved and the taste of bitter spring peaches on her tongue and the faces of children she would never have, beautiful innocent children unburdened by the curse of her blood, she makes every year a millisecond so that when Indra finally speaks and confirms her fate, she had already lived long and well.

Ontari is the first to speak after the announcement and Lexa, jaw grinding and stinging at the sound of her voice, absorbs reality unwillingly like a stone in the shallows. 

"When will the alpha conclave begin?" Ontari demands, tongue alive with vicious determination that irritates Lexa. "Has the new Wanheda ascended? I expect Aida has already claimed victory." she gloats in assumption, grinning and crossed-armed.

"Wanheda won her conclave shortly after the death of the commander… she is the Skaikru tribute."

The room breaks out into a low rumble of disbelief but Lexa exists above it all, instead, appraising, she watches Ontari sneer above the veneer of her badly veiled grief. It's in this moment Lexa knows Ontari will fall first, she has already failed, to be Heda is to serve and answer to none except for the Wanheda victorious by conclave. She watches Ontari's throat quiver in anguish for her lover and feels nothing.

"Skaikru?" Ontari seethes with dark eyes, "There is no nightblood in their veins! I have cut enough to know!"

"By decree of the last commander Skaikru nominated a tribute for the omega conclave. I expect he never anticipated _she_ would win." Indra's nostrils flare with a similar kind of distaste.

Ontari looks to the ceiling, blinking, swallowing, allowing Aida to slip away into a hollow void of nothingness before she rights herself completely. "Then she will watch from the side of my throne as my omega whilst I burn her people to ash when I am crowned Heda by conclave." she turns on her feet and stares at Lexa, eyes alight with hatred.

The old commander was Trikru-born too. Lexa puts her hatred down in equal measure to that and the whispered talks of their equal potential. Again, distant and above it all, she stares back and feels nothing. She knows she must feel nothing. There can be no hatred, no jealousy, no intrigue, no friendship. The Heda is above such thing and to be Heda is to be the only nightblood to survive conclave.

There is only one desire buried beneath the brimming thickness of her nothing, and that is to survive.

Lexa spends her day waiting in her quarters, half thoughtful and half vacant. The weather is scantily spring outside, she wonders if she'll live long enough to see another one, but there's no room for thoughts like that. Either she will or she won't and only her determination will decide that.

Lexa would either reign as an alpha above all alphas or be killed by the one who did. It was the way of their people, any alphas who failed the conclave and bared the shame of surviving until the end would be put down by the true Heda's blade, ending any and all threat they pose to the throne. Though one would always be a single nightblood alpha spared, that is, if there was another one alive to spare. It would fall to the spared nightblood alpha to serve as the Heda's second and train the next generation of nightbloods for their conclave.

Lexa won't die, and second place is not good enough, and so with that information she leans back on the bed and lies there staring at the ceiling, dreaming of different ways to kill Ontari right up until dusk when the conclave guards come for her.

She'll slit her throat whilst she sleeps. Lexa thinks of that solution as the wagon they all sit in pulls closer towards Mount Weather. The river of mud sloshes beneath the cart wheels and the sound of hoofs following the wagon thumps outside. She looks around, appraising each face, Ontari sits smirking and staring at her with her short knife in hand. Beside her are the two nightbloods from the desert clan, neither out of their adolescence. It's the closest she comes to feeling something other than the absence of anything. She hopes one of the others will kill them before she has to.

Perhaps she'll bait her with Wanheda's slick. A pair of used underwear and the stoneclad resolve not to give into temptation herself is all it would take. She could use the scent to lure Ontari somewhere quiet and ambush her, Lexa muses the idea thoughtfully over the sound of the three boat people tributes praying loudly in the far corner.

"You never seem to talk, do you?" Ontari smirked and interrupted the planning of her own death.

Lexa sighs and exhales, "When I have something to say, you will hear me." she says boredly.

"It must be nice having one of your own with you." Ontari nods at Anya, looking her up and down with the same special kind of repulsion.

"Trikru blood may as well be water in the conclave. Lexa and I share no friendship."

Ontari almost sniggers, "Is that so? Maybe you'll save me the trouble then."

"Oh, make no mistake, I will kill you before I turn my blade on my clan-sister." Anya scowls and emphasises each verb with pronounced teeth.

Lexa wants to smirk at the way Ontari falters. It's so small she's certain no one else saw it, but it was there, a tiny reflexive clench of her knife. Ontari was scared of Anya and Lexa gloated in the tiny slight like it was a leyline of sun.

Perhaps she should be scared of Anya too, perhaps they should all be, she was the oldest amongst them by some years. Her nightblood was discovered after she had already seen a warfield and sired a daughter, though both her child and mate died in birth. Lexa was certain that was what made her so dangerous, that hollow hatred in her eyes for everything that lived and breathed, like all of it insulted the memory of the ones she lost.

Their rooms were adjacent to one another back in Polis, they talked rarely about home and the people and the villages, both knowing only one of them would ever live long enough to return one day. That unfortunate fate was never discussed.

It takes three hours to reach Mount Weather and when the steel door closes behind them the scent of Wanheda's heat makes it clear why the conclave slaughter that should take less than ten minutes drags on for days. Lexa is doubled over by a steel wall, gagging and gasping, her rut dragged out of her body like the universe had dug its hands deep into her stomach. It was the hormones pumped through the ventilation system, natural herbs in massive quantities to induce heat.

All she can taste is the thick coating of Wanheda's scent in her mouth and nostrils like bitter orange and jasmine. Suddenly, her nothingness vanishes into the cacophony of everything, her desires and primal wants and urge to sheath her cock and rut the closest thing she can breed become loud clashing noises in her head that blur out the nuances of her plan.

She looks to her side, the rest of the alphas, Anya included, are already starting to recover and chase after the scent in different directions. Ontari is a few meters away, groaning and crumpled on the floor as her erection bulges at the seam of her trousers.

There's an unclaimed omega somewhere lying on her belly with her thighs spread open. Slickness dripping from her. Powerful scent pumping out of her glands. Fingers jammed inside of her holes trying to quell something Lexa _has_ to give her. She can almost taste the omega, but she beats down the beast in her gut and drags herself up onto her feet, hesitating and appraising every urge and thought against the cacophony.

Ontari barely registers her and it's probably for the best. Lexa feels her own aggression growing inside of her gut like a natural disaster, soon, they would all be in that heightened state of violence that came with their ruts. But for now Ontari was lust-driven, clambering off her knees and chasing  after the scent.

Lexa follows, swallowing and gasping and dying and barely clinging to her senses the entire time. Ontari moves more animal than woman, and Lexa is quick on her tail following the hunt with a drawn knife. When the time is right she will pounce like a predator and make the first kill, but for now, she chases behind.

It goes on like that for minutes, Ontari running and Lexa chasing shortly behind, hunting her down like a beast for slaughter, beating down the urge to find Wanheda. She tells herself it's all a lie. A test of her willpower. Wanheda's slick is so overpowering because of the hormones they pumped her full of prior to the conclave, making her scent overbearing to the competing alphas, she has to force the information down repeatedly to make it stick for more than a split-second at a time, but force it down she does.

She turns a blind corner down a concrete hall and there's a loud thud and then a searing pain in her jaw,  she hits the ground and winces into the sensation, briefly welcoming the pain as a distraction from her primal urges.

"You didn't think I knew you were there?" Ontari is above her with a fire-extinguisher, sinisterly grinning, eyes black as iron with her violent rut. "I have waited since we were children for this…" she snarls and bares her teeth, her alpha showing.

Lexa lies there, jaw aching, eyes empty, snarling too, she feels nothing and takes a small pleasure in Ontari's frustration at her lack of fear. Lexa stares with flaring nostrils and pushes herself up on her elbows. "The kill is yours." Lexa makes pretense of her concession, quietly sliding her hand down her thigh towards her short-blade.

"Ah ah ah," Ontari beats her to it and kicks her palm away from the knife. "You always were a cheater."

"No." Lexa briefly smiles and it turns into a scowl, "Just better."

Ontari grimaces briefly, then the scent hits them again, this time it leaves them gasping on it. Wanheda is close, her slick clings to the backs of their throats and crumples them like linen. Now is her chance, this is it, Ontari is doubled over too with violent desire and lust for the throne, and Lexa's knife is just a few milimetres from her grasp, reach it, she wills herself, grab it and ram into in the ceiling of Ontari's skull.

She hesitates for too long. The next thing she sees is Ontari lunge; her arms snapping back like catapults over head and bringing the fire-extinguisher down towards Lexa. Expertly, Lexa throws her hips and rolls out from the path of the bludgeon, watching it cave the ground where her head was seconds before.

Lexa reaches for the short-blade and the glint of metal skims the air before she buries it inside her thigh. Ontari yelps but doesn't take it lying down, she pushes back, hits Lexa in the head with the butt of the extinguisher. It didn't knock her out, it came close, but it didn't. Instead Lexa laid there blinking and swallowing, clinging to consciousness like she were a leech.

Ontari disappears with a bloody limp down the corridor after the intoxicating smell that was too intense to ignore. The world was thin and Lexa couldn't grasp at it, tired and blinking, she willed herself to get up but the blur of her concussion left her prone.

She inhales a deep breath of Wanheda's bitter orange scent and swallows like it was wine. Aching, chuffing, determined and protective over what was not yet hers, she dug her fingers into the grate floor and pulled herself up. Standing was next, she dug one knee into the floor and pushed off until she was on the soles of her wobbling feet.

She can taste Wanheda, she can already imagine burying her length inside her vagina and knotting their bodies together with sharp teeth sunk into her neck until the taste of hot copper blood lingers on her tongue, taking the girl and the throne and assuring her own survival in the process.

She drags herself along the corridor, growling, huffing, overcome by her rut. The throbbing in her head is unbearable and just like everything else, it's a test, one that she will not fail. Pain is temporary, she tells herself over and over again, death is forever.

Lexa hears a scream, it's loud and hollow and her entire body stings at the sound of it. That's when she starts running. That's when she realises that her nothing has became something.


	2. Chapter II

Lexa runs. Chest heaving, teeth gnashing, nose twitching, mindless and terrified of her failure. She runs and it's all she can do. There was a single scream from somewhere down the hallway and then nothing after that, the toxic scent of Wanheda's heat quickly siphoning off into a bland state of absence that became impossible to track. Wanheda had been claimed. Lexa knew it to be true and still, she ran after the wisps of scent left in the air like a predator on the hunt.

Her footsteps echo with hollow violence against the metal grate floor of the corridor, the sound bounced off of the white walls like a cacophony that dampened her senses. Blinking and frustrated, she trained her ears for the sound of other alphas descending the fortress. There was nothing. Lexa proceeded slowly towards the groaning noises at the end of the hallway.

By the time she gets to the half-open door she hears the groans and sees four feet tangled together on the floor. Perhaps if she kills Ontari now, crept up and slit her throat before she knots, she could still be victorious. It would be her only chance of survival, huffing and quietly terrified, her fingers curl against the knurls of her blade in the knowledge of it.

Puffed out and veneered with aggression, Lexa kicks the door open, blade drawn and teeth bared. The sight halts her. Wanheda is most definitely still unclaimed. She knows it to be true because the groans belong to Ontari, and they are her last, blood bubbling in the hollow of her mouth and eyes fading like collapsing stars. The knife stuck in her naked chest whilst the Omega wrestled on top of her, stealing the clothes from her dying body and furiously pulling them on to mask her own scent beneath Ontari's.

"Yo gonplei ste odon." Lexa says stoically, gloating beneath the veneer of her reservation as the last breath barely bubbles the blood spilling Ontari's lips.

Wanheda snaps at the intrusion and jumps to her feet, pulling her blade back and setting her stance. She is nothing like Lexa imagined. Her skin is clean of scars and ink, eyes blue as cornflower and beneath the dirt and blood, hair as aureate as the golden skies along the furthest southern coast. Lexa had only seen it once as a child, sleepy and pulling at her mother's hand as they crossed the water, but standing before this beautiful creature, for a brief moment, she was a child once again.

Lexa claws back her resolve with a single breath that flares her nostrils. "I see you met Ontari." she nods at the corpse and says these things with the detached reservation she was so expert in.

"She killed the boy, so I killed her." Wanheda mutters, knife still drawn in front of her. "If you take another step—"

"I won't." Lexa cuts her off and lowers her own blade.

"He was so young..." Wanheda tells her with eyes that feel too much. "He was a baby." she shook her head in disbelief.

Lexa looks to the second body at the far side of the room. He was the Trishankru Alpha tribute, or at least he was. He was maybe twelve years old and unfortunate enough to be called to this conclave against Alphas twice his age and size.

Guilty and embarrassed, Lexa wanted to feel something. Just a slither of the tragedy or pitless anger that Wanheda seemed to be so impossibly full of. But there was nothing other than the stark cleanliness of truth and fact; the boy was too young and this was inevitable. Lexa moved to roll his body over with her boot but she stopped herself and thought better of it. The Omega above her seemed taken with the boy. Instead, she kneeled and used her hands to gently roll him on his back.

"He was frightened." Wanheda mumbled and wrapped her fingers into the blade as she appraised the slash across his throat. "He came down here to hide from the others and found me instead. I thought if I let him bite me it would be enough to save him..."

Lexa's eyes snapped up. "Did he bite you?" she asked too possessively.

"No." Wanheda flexed her jaw. "The girl killed him."

"His people will honor him." Lexa knew her words could bring no comfort. "I'm sure his family will be proud of this sacrifice—"

"How can you even say that?" she narrowed her eyes.

"Our ways are different, Wanheda. You won your own conclave and there is an eternal glory to be found in such victory."

"There was a girl his age in my conclave. I tried to protect her but…" Wanheda shook her head and bit her mouth, nostrils flaring as the intake of air burned the skin. "There's no glory in surviving. Just ghosts of the ones who didn't."

"Perhaps when you take your throne you can change the rules of conclave." Lexa shrugged, patting the boy's pockets down for anything useful. There was something small and hard in the pocket of his coat, definitely something worth investigating.

"Do you believe that?"

"No." Lexa glanced over her shoulder almost apologetically. "But if it helps you to believe such things then you should tell yourself otherwise." her fingers slipped inside the patched up pocket and pulled out her prize.

"And how much blood will you spill to become Heda? How much is bearable for the sake of a throne?"

Lexa hears the fear in her voice and knows this woman was not made for killing or conclaves or the rough breeding knot of the most violent Alpha. She feels guilty for that, not much, but certainly enough to break through the blaring sound of her rut.

Lexa sighs and doesn't answer straight away, instead she examines the small marble in her palm. "Here," she offers and stands from her knee, brushing herself down. "You should take this."

"What for?"

"Just take it." Lexa stood taller, entirely stuck and lost. "Something to remember the ones who were lost."

Beneath the lingering headiness of Ontari's blood Lexa caught long wisps of her heat. It left her nostrils flaring, jaws slipping against each other, eager for just a _taste_ of the girl. Sore and stuck in her rut, she allowed a low growl to escape her lungs, primal and animalistic as these things were — Lexa knew what she had to do to assure her own survival.

"No!" Wanheda blinked in realisation, pushing out her arm to keep the growling alpha at bay. "I'm not something you get to take." she growled and made herself small behind Ontari's coat.

"Then please," Lexa grits her teeth and tries to control herself over the merciless heat of her rut, stinging her skin like hot needles. "Don't make me take something you have the power to give me."

She watches Wanheda buckle beneath the stench of her rut pheromones. The girl is trembling, knees wobbling and lip swollen between her teeth, Lexa knows it must be taking everything to fight off her own induced desire and yet somehow she does — somehow she owns herself in a way Lexa can't.

The room seems smaller, more claustrophobic and chrome if that was even possible. The glare from the light bounces off of the clean shine on the walls, making her temples ache with the brightness of it. Lexa blinks, throwing her stare away from the girl because she can't bare to look at hair that reminds her of childhood memories when she knows what she _must_ do now if she wants to survive.

"I'm not something you get to take." Wanheda growls again.

"I will be the next Heda. You will not deny me my life!" Lexa snaps and bares her teeth. 

"Your people denied me of mine the minute you threw me into this pit to kill or be killed!" Wanheda grits her teeth too and wraps her fingers around her blade. "So try and bite me, Alpha, if you're prepared to kill or be killed… because I will go down fighting." she snarls.

Feel nothing, Lexa wills herself. Swallowing and stuck, losing herself rapidly to this strange creature. Feel nothing. Feel nothing, she silently begs herself again, but it's useless because somehow the floodgates open and the natural disaster of everything floods into her lungs and there's too much of it to breathe for a moment. Instead she looks away and blinks, threshing her jaw and inhaling a small breath that pinches her nostrils closed.

"I hope one day you'll forgive me for this." Lexa concedes softly and prepares herself for the fight to claim Wanheda with her bite. She pushes a hand up into her jaw until her neck pops to the side, briefly relieving the tense bit of muscle there with a small sigh.

"Never."

"Then I'm sorry, Wanheda."

Lexa submits to the spirit of her Alpha until the low throttled growl in her throat becomes a snarling rabid sound behind the clash of her teeth. Her veins are full of it, merciless hot violence mixed with solid iron guilt that weighs her conscience down. She won't die in this place. The spirit of her Alpha is strong and it will do what she cannot.

She is an unshackled predator and she moves as such, body heavy beneath the weight of the beast as her legs wind themselves like the hindquarters of a jaguar. Hunting and growling, she circles the periphery of the Omega that is to be hers, releasing the thick stench of her pheromones and gloating at the way Wanheda must exert herself to fight off the urge to submit to her own heat.

"I don't want to fight you." Lexa growls beneath the beast.

"I don't want to kill you." Wanheda acquises too, blade still wrapped in her fingers following the way Lexa paces around her. She's sweating. It pours off of her like rain into the bottom of a gorge and somewhere beneath her rut she feels guilty for being the cause of it.

But not guilty enough.

Eyes never leaving the bright glint of the blade, Lexa pounces forward at her prey like a bobcat. She wraps herself into the bladed hand as they collide and wrangles the glinting metal free of Wanheda's grasps before they even hit the ground. The floor welcomes them painfully, both of their bodies smashing into the cement as the blade skims just beyond either of their grasps.

The thud of the ground knocks the wind out of the Omega's chest. Guilty and repulsed with herself, Lexa wastes no time. She locks her fingers into the surplus material of Ontari's coat and slung a sinewed thigh over Wanheda's gut until she was firmly locked in, claiming the dominant position. She will make the bite quick, that is the only kindness she can afford the Omega as a wedding gift.

"My name is Clarke!" Wanheda bursts, twisting her wrists beneath Lexa's heaving grasps as the Alpha dips her open jaws down into the valley of collarbone and neck. "I… I just wanted to be a doctor before all of this." she heaves the words, punching the Alpha in the gut with them syllable by syllable.

"What?" Lexa growls.

"My name is Clarke Griffin." she huffs and clenches her eyes, fighting off the impossible desire of her heat because suddenly, unwelcomed as it was, she is full of just that. "Please, you don't have to do this. No one has to die in here. Not you, not them, no one. You can be _more_ than this." she promises.

Lexa curiously pulls her teeth away from the skin of her neck and pauses, feeling the boiling rage of her rut whip her insides into storms that make her sit taller but, somehow, on the outside she is as calm and still as the river at dawn — inhaling small breaths and appraising each of the Omega's words.

"Don't you think life should be about more than just surviving?" Clarke whispered with sad eyes.

Lexa almost falls backwards, furious and repulsed. She drags herself away the metre necessary to demonstrate her truth; she could not and will not bite this girl because beneath the stoic veneer of her resolve, she feels and cares.

"Thank you." Clarke gasps and chokes on her relief, digging her feet into the cement to push herself backwards.

"I'm so sorry—" Lexa covers and bites the inside of her mouth, quickly forcing order over herself with a small clearing of her throat. "I'm sorry." she says tersely and blinks.

"It's okay."

"It isn't."

"But it can be." Clarke looks up and Lexa meets her gaze. She is so beautiful and soft and insular and too… _clean_ to be a part of her world. "No more killing today." she nods and pushes herself up off of the floor.

Lexa stands, pensive and quiet and stuck in herself. It takes her a minute to think of something to say, the words roll around in the back of her throat but all of them feel vapid — so for a moment she says nothing.

"You could have bit me and ended the conclave." Clarke tells her softly.

"To have you hate me for all of, what I hope to be, our long lives together isn't a price I can pay, Wanheda."

The words barely leave the bow of her mouth before she senses the others. Their violence and rut stench the air like an ungodly foulness. It makes the hairs on her neck stand up — she must protect this Omega at all costs.

"What are you doing?" Clarke's eyes are alight with panic as she reaches for the blade on the floor.

Lexa runs the tip of it down her forearm, wincing and seething as she did, opening the skin just enough for the blackness of her Alpha to seep into her hand. "What I should have done." she sighs stoically into the pain and steps to the girl. "Come here."

"What are you doing?"

"Must everything be a fight with you!" Lexa snapped, aware of the wandering group of Alphas who grew closer. "Your scent is starting to seep. Ontari's clothes will not protect you for much longer but my blood will hide your smell until you can go and hide somewhere safe... from me and the others." she added softly, rubbing the hot sticky liquid between her palms.

To her surprise Clarke doesn't put up much more of a fight. Instead she stands perfectly still, consumed in the effort of trying to seem unphased by the natural disaster of her heat like a straw hut in a hurricane. Lexa works quickly, smearing the thick black liquid over the pulse points that punch out that intoxicating smell of her heat. Completely consumed and repulsed by her most carnal desires, but she refuses herself, because she knows she can be more.

"There." Lexa nods at her word, satisfied with the sudden lack of Omega in the air. "Take the passageways, quickly!" she nods at the backdoor to the room.

Wordlessly, Clarke does as she's told and takes her blade back — holstering at her hip. She looks more like one of them now, smeared in darkness and covered in the stench of power and violence as she approaches the instructed exit. It will make her heat worse. Lexa knows that but it's all she can do to protect her from the pack.

"Alpha?"

"What?" Lexa growls in the frustration of her rut.

"What's your name?"

"Lexa."

"May we meet again, Lexa." Wanheda whispers, nodding once more before she disappeared into the old service corridors of the mountain.

The reality nearly crumples her to her knees. She is weak and unworthy, an undeserving false-prophet. She should have marked her with the bite and claimed her victory and instead she opened her own veins to assure her escape. It stings all the more for the fact she doesn't regret a second of it.

Stiff and tall, Lexa waits for the others. It takes barely no time at all before the sound of thundering boots and growling throats thud the hallway outside. A vicious kind of self-preservation righted the small wrongs of her heart, doured and stiffened her until she was a silent predator once again, eyes black and hair stiff against her skin.

Anya bursts in first, growling and blackened by her rut. Her nose twitches, throat quivering into the search for the Omega. "The Omega—"

"Not in here!" Lexa gnashes and makes herself a terrifying beast.

Echo appears next, frightful grin and blood soaked teeth. "You're bleeding." she sneers, nose twitching for a sign of the scent too.

"I have good reason." Lexa nods down to the two bodies of her competitors on the floor.

There are eight of them left now. Lexa smirks in the knowledge that she is the strongest amongst them. None will rise against her for at least a few days, she has assured herself that much with the pretense of her glorious kill. Yet still she moves along the hallway with them all, growling and leading them in the wrong direction for hours.

"Lexa, Lexa, Lexa." Echo slips along her side quietly as the evening starts to draw in, staring ahead as the others follow behind in small groups designated by kru. Her and Anya didn't care for such trivial short lived alliances — they would all face each other's blade sooner or later, no matter loyalty or blood bond.

"Mmm?" she sighs, satisfied to once again feel nothing.

"Where was Ontari's clothes?" Echo smirks. Lexa's eyes snap up suddenly, locking stares with the last Azgeda. "She was missing her clothes when we found you…"

 


	3. Chapter III

The noise of roaming Alphas echoed everywhere, it existed like a low rumble that bled through the corridors and above the ceilings and beneath the levels of steel and iron of Mount Weather until she was trapped in a vacuum of snarls and growls. The smell was just as violently present too. God, that smell was visceral like hot metal or maybe gasoline. It was terrifying and consuming, and all Clarke could do was limp as far away from it as possible, sweating and pretending she was stronger than her heat, secretly praying an Alpha would find her and end this natural disaster in her bones.

 _No._ She shook her head and righted herself against the wall. She was stronger than her heat, she was bigger than her artificial desires and unfortunate breeding. She wasn't weak like they wanted her to be. All she had were these little facts and no Alpha would be strong enough to strip her of them.

It was this that fueled her limping pace away from the pack that searched for her, hidden within the service corridors of the mountain, clothed behind the waning scent of a dead Alpha and the blood of a very much alive one… both of which made her heat exponentially worse but that would have to be a problem for tomorrow.

The corridor was nothing but an endless tunnel of insipid grey cement, lit overhead by the flicker of artificial lighting that illuminated the thick layer of dust that time had spent accumulating on the floor. Wherever she was, perhaps Lexa thought she would be safer here, it clearly hadn't been disturbed since before the bombs. Step by step, aching in her desire, she made it to the bottom of the hall.

Right there in front of her, an old rusted door separated her from the only possible route further away from danger.

"Warning," she whispered and traced her fingers over the rusty lettering of the sign. "Emergency Exit 4 — Philpott Dam." Clarke stopped, blinking and surprised. "Emergency Exit…" she whispered to herself, re-reading the words.

"Wanheda!" a snarl emanated down the corridor from the leader of the betas. "You are out of the official conclave area." she warned, stepping forward with her tribe behind her. "Return now of your own free will."

Clarke pressed down on the release handle, and it wouldn't budge.

" _Retrieve Wanheda._ " she heard the chief beta mutter in her own tongue.

Clarke pressed down against the rusted iron once more, frantic beneath the urgent, and again it didn't budge. She tried again, and again, each time more forceful than the last as the gamekeepers ran along the hallway towards her.

Finally, with everything she had, Clarke pulled down hard enough on the handle and fell through the swung open door. Shuffling backwards, metres away from the betas who would drag her back into that death-pit, she kicked the door close and got up off her knees, sliding a piece of rebar through the handles to stop it opening, for now.

Victorious, she watched them through the tiny porthole window, breathing a sigh of relief as they pushed and pulled on the door to no avail.

"You can't escape, Wanheda!" the chief beta pushed her lessers out of the way, growling so close to the window it fogged with her breath. "You have come this far — do not bring shame to your people!"

"Shame to my people? The things I did in my conclave?" Clarke narrowed her eyes, stuck in the memories of her sins. "Believe me, this pales in comparison."

***

The war horn blares a long sound that bleeds through the hallways and corridors, halting the alphas who just about moved as one unit down the hallway. The first two blares come and Lexa prays there will be a third because two blares alone signal the end of the conclave. Two blares brings the news that Wanheda has been claimed and the rest will be put to death. When the third sounds, she breathes an invisible sigh of relief and watches the rest do the same, three blares signals the beta game-keepers to change guard.

But then the fourth comes, and it sends everyone into a gnashing, panicked, raging, shouting mess.

It was Anya's eyes she met first, they peered at each other thoughtfully whilst the rest dissolved into gnashing threats against one another and drawn blades. She watched Anya carefully, modelled herself after her, because Anya was calm and collected, no matter how high the flames of her rut reached, and she was ready to fight for her life if it came down to that. Lexa wouldn't be the first to meet her blade, no, it made far more sense to let someone else try against her first.

Nostrils flaring, eyes still locked, it was Anya who spoke first. "Do you know something, Lexa?" she stepped forward.

"No." Lexa lied.

"There are whispers that you know what lead to Ontari's lack of clothes—"

"Perhaps she stripped herself in the blindness of her rut." Lexa interrupted, quick and cool. "You'll forgive me for not having time to ask her before we fought."

"Well… that would certainly be convenient for you."

"Wouldn't it?" Lexa curtly smiled. "You know what four horns means, don't you?"

"Wanheda is dead." Anya nodded. "Which if I recall my conclave history correctly, is unprecedented."

"Until now." Lexa agreed and pushed down the fear until all she was left with was the same pithy nothingness that got her through the worst storms. To be Heda is to be above such things, to be Heda is to be the quiet calm in the raging war. She tells herself that over and over again, because one girl _cannot_ matter more than that. Lexa won't let her.

Anya walked to her side and together they stood like ghosts on the periphery of the chaos before them. Abstract and strange as that was, they existed above the violence of their ruts if only for a moment — watching these things transpire together.

Anya licked her lips, and then smiled. "They'll have to hold another Wanheda conclave." she said, almost sounding relieved. "It would seem we don't have to kill each other today after all, little sister." she whispered the last part with a tiny smile.

There it was, barrelling into her with the weight of mountains, a single reminder that her nothingness was a pretense and there were reasons above the logical why she hoped Anya would lose at another's hand. Lexa closed her eyes and buried it down into her belly where other unimportant facts lived, righting herself in the process.

"Don't call me that." Lexa flexed her jaw and eye-balled her sister.

Anya chuckled but abided nonetheless, "Wouldn't want the others knowing, would we?"

"There is nothing to know. We share a father and a clan banner, that is all." Lexa emphasised these things and made herself swallow the truth of it too. 

They had stopped being sisters the minute she was seven years old, bundled in the back of a wagon to be delivered to the gates of Polis, watching her family grow into dots in the distance. There had been letters in the interim, sparse and few, Lexa knew of her sister-in-law and niece from her father's letters and then she learned that they were no more. It was perhaps the summer after that she laid eyes on Anya for the first time in nearly a decade, sat there boredly in the communal dining room. Winded in the knowledge that they would meet in conclave, she made herself feel nothing, because that is what it took to make the thought of killing her bearable.

"Always so dutiful." Anya mused quietly, "But know that I'm glad I don't have to kill you today." Lexa shot her a warning glare at the mere suggestion that she could.

"You always were dangerously sure of yourself." Lexa grouched.

Anya ignored that and repeated herself again, "They will hold another Wanheda conclave. They must." she exhaled.

"You can't know that." Lexa countered above the sound of Echo finally driving her blade into the ceiling of a lesser Alpha's jaw. "There are no nightblood omegas left." she raised her voice over the blood and violence, visibly annoyed by the inconvenience and urge to join in. "The last Wanheda saw to that in her conclave."

"If the Skaikru are allowed to send any of their omegas to conclave then surely our clans will too? Perhaps the next Wanheda will be without nightblood."

"Or perhaps they'll put us all to death for failure."

"For what?" Anya narrowed her eyes, "Not protecting her from the arbitrary?"

"People have died for less in this world." Lexa scolded.

A long line of betas ran through the hallway towards them and the fighting stopped. Drenched in blood, gnashing and hovered over the body of her prey, even Echo slowly stood from above her kill and forced herself to fall back in line as Indra approached.

Embarrassed and furious, Indra stood before them with puffing cheeks, arms drew to the small of her back in a loose stance of attention.

"Is Wanheda dead?" Echo gnashed first, blood smeared down her face. "Because if the plan is to eliminate us and start from scratch, you'll need a much bigger army." she nodded to the gamekeepers who fell in line behind Indra.

"Clarke kom Skaikru went mad in the rage of her heat... she jumped to her death hours ago and the gamekeepers have been unable to track her."

"Huh," Echo nodded her head in disbelief and threw her hands in the air. "Isn't it your job to stop that _exact_ scenario from happening?"

"She gained access to corridors we never knew existed… by the time we found her she had already made a rescue plan impossible."

"You have failed." Echo hissed.

Pacing and furious, Anya finally buried the side of her fist against the metal sheeting that covered the wall beside her. "Enough!" her voice echoed the clash, seething and angry. "You will assemble another Wanheda conclave and in the meantime we will retire to Polis—"

"Wait." Lexa raised her hand, calmly commanding and earning silence with the gesture. "You said you were unable to track her?" she raised her brow curiously. "So she didn't jump within the mountain?"

"She escaped through an undiscovered exit." Indra nodded. "She jumped into the dam."

"Show us."

***

The six of them along with the gamekeepers stood there on the lip of the drop, peering over the edge where water rushed down into the bottom of the dam. They couldn't even see it for the mist and spray that blurred the air beneath them but Lexa was _certain_ she could taste her in the air.

"She's alive." Lexa swallowed, assured in her senses.

"Impossible."

Anya eyed Indra's indignant expression, looking amongst the other Alphas as she did. "Can the rest of you smell her." she drew in a deep breath of air.

"Barely, but yes." Echo agreed with an inconvenienced sigh and the low hum of agreement eventually followed from the rest after a few sharp huffs.

This was unprecedented. A Wanheda dead? A conclave outside of the mountain? It made Lexa glad for the fresh air and blowback of the water's spray because there was only so much she could take in the midsts of her rut without ripping someone apart.

She was out there, and that was half of the frustration, close enough to smell and far enough away that it could still be a hopeful illusion. Perhaps hope was necessary right now, Lexa grimaced on the thought of needing such trivialities, but it was certainly better than sweltering in the knowledge that they could all be put to death in a moment for failing to claim her before the heat drove her wild.

"There are too many of you." Indra shook her head and crossed her arms. "I will not send six nightbloods to hunt Wanheda in the open. It's too many for us to track—"

The two Desert tributes in front of Lexa sank to their knees and Indra lost her words watching them clutch their slashed throats. Lexa stood above them, blades drawn in either locked-out arm, every ripple and muscle beneath her skin on show. "Do you have the men to track four?" her voice was a low and darkened rumble, entirely belonging to the beastly spirit of the Alpha she couldn't hold back anymore.

There was a silence that settled them and Lexa waited, jaw grinding, slowly wiping the flecks of blood from her face. Somewhere deep down she felt a tiny morsel of guilt, because Clarke believed she could be better, and maybe in a different world she could have believed that too, but she was stuck in this one. And to survive this one was to become Heda.

"I have the betas for four of you, yes." Indra confirmed and didn't look the Alpha in the eyes in case she was seen as a threat too.

"Then it's settled." Lexa decided, looking between Anya, Echo and Nial for their agreement. "We will follow her down into the dam," she pointed behind her to the drop, "and we will work together to find her."

"No." Echo shook her head, already sheathing and tightening her blades to her body. "The conclave is not a team sport."

"Either we find her together and the conclave is resumed, or we kill each other in the process and Polis will fall to the hands of power hungry ambassadors until new nightbloods rise. I will not allow that to happen." Lexa's voice became a low graveled growl, she stepped forward with her chin risen in the air and Echo moved forward too, unflinching and unafraid of the great Lexa kom Trikru.

"I agree with Lexa." Anya pushed her arms out between them. "What say you Nial?"

"I agree to the terms." he nodded, too young to go against the grain.

Anya nodded, swallowing and reserved. "Either you're with us or you're against us." she told Echo bluntly, and for all her prowess and violence, the last Ice Nation Alpha knew she would fall against the three of them.

Eyes closed, righting herself against the urge to decimate them or die trying, Echo swallowed and cracked her neck to the side. Her trousers were next, she pulled them down, huffing and muttering to herself the whole while, the long thin piece of cloth secured around her wrist and up her arm was unwrapped quickly. She pushed one end between her thighs, winding the material as tight as possible until her knot was tucked away and invisible. The others looked away, blinking and embarrassed.

"Echo?" Anya cleared her throat, staring just past her.

"If you think I'm jumping off a mountain with you knot first you're stupider than I thought." she muttered the explanation.

 


	4. Chapter IV

Sodden and dripping, the water falls off the ends of her braided hair in thick droplets. It was inconvenient to say the least, dragging the extra weight of the water soaked into her clothes along the sludgy uphill trail as they stalked the missing omega.

“I told you.” Echo said gruffly, unwinding the thin strip that kept her groin smooth and then wringing it out like she did the rest of her clothes. “What kind of fool jumps two-hundred feet into the dam knot first?” she fastened it back around her wrist and glared at Anya, winded and crouched.

“Can you children stop squabbling?” Nial rolled his eyes.

He was the youngest and weakest among them, and that made Lexa bite a smirk even more at the way he scolded his betters. Nial was barely sixteen, small and lithe like a whippet bred for running — as were most of the children of Shallow Valley. It was a shame that he would have to die, and that made Lexa sober herself again, made her more steely on the fact that these people, her sister included, could not become friends of any sort.

To be Heda is to be alone, she swallows the fact and plants the seedlings of its truth in her gut.

“She went this way.” Lexa nodded towards the almost washed out tracks in the sludge, her nose peaked into the scent of the air — it was barely there, just a slight whiff of Wanheda masked behind her own smeared blood and Ontari’s coat. Soon that smell would wash away completely, and if there was any hope of staying within tracking distance they had to move now.

It was late afternoon or early dusk, for a moment Lexa wasn’t sure. Time always moved with her beyond its reaches during her rut, like she was not of this world, not confined by its principles — and time was one of those principles, hours dragged like days or slipped by like minutes, always without rhythm.

“How can you be sure?” Echo raised a brow.

Lexa looked over her shoulder, swallowing and standing taller. “Of what?” 

“That those are her tracks? That it’s her scent?”

“If you’re trying to imply something…”

“I am.” Echo closed the distance and their noses nearly touched. “I think you saw her in the mountain. I think, you opened your vein,” she nodded to the barely-scabbing cut along her forearm. “And I think you did it to protect her. In fact, I know you did.” she practically snorted in disbelief and narrowed her eyes. “Always so weak, Lexa-”

The glint of metal was quickly beside Echo’s jugular, the iron tip right along her pulse, threatening to end it there and then. Lexa’s eyes were smoulder and smog, dark dirty things that brewed into two terrible storms; she set her teeth next, her whole body nearly hanging off the edge of them as she flexed her jaw. Echo just smirked, stood still and made no move for the weapon.

“Say it again.” she whispered and dared her fellow nightblood.

“Love her or hate her, if you had faced Ontari with honour she would have cut more than a scratch on your arm.”

“Who said I faced her with honour?” Lexa quirked a brow.

Anya moved and stood between them, rolling her eyes and clearly aware they were wasting precious time. It took one quiet glare at them both to make them concede, for now. Lexa sheathed her blade and held her stance, waiting for Echo to walk in front first. To walk at the front of the pack was to turn your back on the others, and Lexa was not that foolish.

“Fine.” Echo shrugged and walked without fear. “But when Wanheda is mine,” she looked Lexa up and down.  “I will spare your life, Lexa.” the words slipped out of a ruthless smirk, “And I will pray every day that you live a long life, kept company only by your failures.”

“I can’t say you’ll be offered the same courtesy.” Lexa growled and looked from her to the others, “None of you will.”

“Well I will spare all of you.” Nial puffed out his chest and strode forward past Lexa and Anya, fingers running through his shaggy blonde hair. “When I am Heda I will bring days of peace and there will be no more blood spilt at conclave-” his words were suddenly cut short, and all Nial could do was grasp the gash across his neck.

Echo rolled her eyes as she cut his throat. It was one fast and fluid motion from her belt to his ears. She did not blink as he dropped to his knees, and she did not blink as her damp hand wiped the flecks of black blood from her cheek, and she did not waiver, not even for a second, as his young body slumped forward with one last breath.

“Come on?” she cocked her head and narrowed a glare as Anya and Lexa took their stances in the slippery shale, their weapons pulled back and ready for a fight. “You can’t tell me he wasn’t annoying the both of you too?”

“We had a deal!” Anya seethed, suddenly alive with the fire of her rut once again. “You’re a coward to the covenant!”

“You’re a coward to the covenant!” Echo mimicked with her face pulled into a mocking expression. “He was never going to win, Anya, give up the hero act. I did you a favour, teenage boys are hardly infamous for their bravery and honour — as soon as we slept he would have crept like a dog and killed us just as quickly as I killed him. So much for ‘no more blood in the conclave.’” she flipped her knife in her hand and sheathed it back into her belt.

“I say we take her out, now.” Anya muttered to Lexa, glaring and nodding at their mutual enemy.

“No.” Lexa decided quickly and sheathed her blade too. “She’s right.”

“What?”

“He was dead weight. Nial would have either slowed us down or took out the competition at the first opportunity just like Echo said.” she made the pretense of her heartlessness seem expert and second-nature. “We each have two hands, two opponents, and two weapons — more than capable of fairly defending ourselves should the need arise. I say we call amnesty until we return to the conclave like we agreed.”

“You really think you can trust her?” Anya exasperated.

“No.” Lexa said, moving across the shale to kick Nial’s body back down the gorge to rest in the water beyond the thickets. “But I didn’t come to conclave to find confidants. I came to win. If the keepers ask, we tell them Nial didn’t survive the jump and he washed out downstream, it’s unlikely they’ll find him.”

“So we’re all honourless now? Not even the decency to send the boy home to his clan?” Anya bit.

“Urgh, fine.” Echo grew tired of listening to it all. “Yu gonplei ste odon, Nial kom Louwoda Kliron. As we are born from water, you now return.” she waved his body off down the current of the water.

“I am going to enjoy killing you.” Anya growled and pushed past them both.

###

She is incapable of running, and Clarke knows that, already exhausting from dragging herself out of the dam. It was a miracle she survived, or maybe a curse, but either way between the growing intensity of her heat and the inconvenience of nearly drowning she was not in a position to run from the alphas. So she did something even better.

She hid.

The wind was running down stream along the sludge of the gorge, and so she did as she learned in Earth Studies and used the little time she had to create track marks — just enough of them through the muddy bank to lead towards the shale and fallen tree branches that would make it look as if her tracks had simply washed out through the obstacles. Clarke turned and moved in the opposite direction, careful to walk only on the stone and leave no mark on the tree trunks she used for stability up the hill.

It took twenty minutes to smear enough mud over herself to dampen the scent of her heat that bled through the washed away stains of Lexa’s alpha blood. The mud rendered her invisible against the terrain too, allowed her to lie down among the leaves and foliage behind a dead trunk without detection, and what was left of her scent blew downwind and gave the impression that she had ran south of the dam in her hurry.

“I told you.” one of the older alphas said gruffly, unwinding the thin strip that kept her groin smooth and then wringing it out like she did the rest of her clothes. “What kind of fool jumps two-hundred feet into the dam knot first?” she fastened it back around her wrist.

She had strong forearms, Clarke noticed that first about the Ice Nation alpha — the way they pulled her out of the dam with little to no effort at all. She was taller than the other three too, and more grumpy apparently. Her eyes were a particular shade of brown, and Clarke couldn’t really make them out from up here, not really at least; but they just didn’t look warm like other brown eyes she’d seen. Between this alpha and Ontari, Clarke decided the Ice Nation wasn’t proficient at producing anything warm or colourful.

“Can you children stop squabbling?” Nial rolled his eyes.

That earned a smile from Clarke, he was a small boy, light-figured. She hoped against her better judgement that he would run away too… or, just, anything to survive.

“She went this way.”

Clarke’s eyes snapped across the small pathway the alphas cut, and there she was. Lexa. Tall and mighty and leading the charge to rescue or rather imprison her. It made the heat inside of her bones amplify like she was a furnace, clad iron and burning ferociously. 

The alpha was staunch and impossible and beautiful and Clarke knew that she should run, absolutely knew she should flee and get as far away as possible if she wanted some semblance of freedom and yet… she couldn’t.

At first it’s because of her heat, but, then, she watches the boy fall. She cups her mouth and forces herself not to scream, and she watches him slump and try for air like a fish out of water. It’s then that she can’t move for fear, for the terror of belonging to one of them, especially the Ice alpha, wiping flecks of blood off her face and rolling her eyes apathetically.

She waits for Lexa to be better, to right the wrong and be the alpha she quietly hoped she was. It was Lexa who saved her after all… but it doesn’t come.

“I am going to enjoy killing you.” the tallest one growled at them both and stalked forward, equally as indignant as Clarke.

She’s older, golden skin and dark hair held off her face with a head band. There’s something so very different about her, and if only briefly, it makes Clarke feel safe. Her deep set eyes, smeared in charcoal, are terrifying — but they’re warm. They’re warm and they don’t take the boy’s death lightly.

She watches her lead at the front of the pack, unafraid of what Lexa or the other one might do, and the sheer boldness of the act leaves Clarke blinking.

“Anya...” she makes a mental note of the name, smiling as she did.

 

_[If you enjoy this story check me out[HERE!](http://theevangelion.tumblr.com)]_


	5. Update

Hey guys,

I'm not going to lie, the reviews I've received on this story have been really hard to get through.

Firstly, there have been really nasty comments because I wrote something alluding to the fact that Clarke might also be interested in someone other than Lexa -- it very clearly states in my tags that this was a slow burn story, like, every story I read Clarke and Lexa are either automatically established or are the only viable love interest for one another and I wanted to write something where their love developed and Clarke chose her for her, not just because Lexa was the only person available and suitable for her.

Secondly, if people don't like the story I don't understand why you can't just either read another one or read The Divinity which is very much the same universe as this story but with established Clexa.

Thirdly, I'm sorry but I have to say this: you as the reader do not dictate the story, I tell you what the story is, like that's how it works. If you don't enjoy the story, then that is perfectly okay and you are entitled to your critique but this fandom behaviour of haranguing authors and leaving vile messages anonymously like spoiled little piss babies stops with me..

So to those of you who enjoyed this story and were enthusiastic about it, thank you so much and I'm so sorry that the vocal minority have made this now my project of least interest but as I'm sure you can understand, getting straight up death threats on Tumblr over a fan-fiction is the most ridiculous shit I've ever seen in my life. I will continue to update this story but I do ask that if you are someone who has posted mean things to myself, and to my other readers who have commented, then please be kinder and think about the fact that we are literally arguing over fan-fiction.

You as a reader get to enjoy this for free and if you want a story that is perfectly tailored to your desires, then write your own! I really encourage it, you might just find there will be a whole group of other people who love it too! I write stories that I think are interesting and gripping, not stories that I think should exist to please everyone.


	6. Chapter V

She trekked in the opposite direction at first. Clarke made it a clean half mile before the doubts began to niggle. Firstly, Arkadia was a five day hike from her position near the mountain. Secondly, the insufferable weight of her heat would not relent. There wasn’t a moment’s respite from the intensity of it. There were bound to be alphas between here and home, alphas who she would not be able to refuse in this state, alphas who would let it be known that Wanheda escaped the conclave.

Reluctantly, huffing and closing her eyes, Clarke stood still for a moment in the neck of the woods and knew what she must do. One of the alphas hunting for her in the south would become heda, someway somehow, but perhaps she might be able to lay a hand in determining who. Whoever claimed her would become the commander after all. Maybe choosing the right commander might go someway towards atoning for the things she did in her own conclave.

Her own conclave was a blistered fresh wound, and all Clarke could do was try her best to ignore that constant sting. The constant sore rub that came from the heaviness of those burdens. Perhaps they would always be heavy, perhaps they always would hurt, Clarke thought. They say all's fair in love and war but neither of those things are true. There are rules of engagement for both, courtesies and traditions and decencies that are maintained by both sides. The conclave made a mockery of that; boiled away a person’s humanity until all that was left, was to kill or be killed.

Clarke chose to kill.

And perhaps nothing would ever right that wrong. Perhaps nothing would ever wash her hands clean. Perhaps nothing would make the ghostly faces of those who fell stop haunting her dreams. But how would she know if she didn’t try? What would become of her if those girls died for nothing? Granted, nothing would bring them back, Clarke swallowed that bitter truth often, but maybe she could do something, anything, to install a heda who would ensure change. Who would ensure peace and prosperity for their families. Who would make it so that no nightblood was ever snatched from their mother’s arms again.

Clarke wiped the dirt from her face and transferred it to the backs of her hands instead. There was a deep sigh, a groan of concession, a hesitant pause waiting out just a moment longer for a better plan. She wouldn’t have long before her heat became unmanageable, maybe four days out here in nature away from the chemicals pumped around the mountain’s ventilation system, if she was lucky. Four days to choose which Alpha would be heda. Four days to become the huntress instead of the hunted.

Four days, Clarke nodded to herself. She bent down and dug up handfuls Of soft wet mud and smeared it around the glands in her neck, before setting off back towards the mountain.

…

The sun had long since settled from the high of the sky, now it sulked behind the mountain, hiding like a child. Hunger came like a searing constance, it was manageable for now, but they would have to eat soon. It made them all irritable, made the rutting novitiates all the more on edge. Still, the act of hunting was bound to provide some short lived relief. 

“How many Alphas does it take to hunt Wanheda…” Echo mumbled to herself as if it was the start of joke.

They moved quickly, made fast work of the sludge and washed out ground. Anya lead in front, quiet and uninterested. Lexa followed in the middle, brooding and thoughtful. Echo behind the pack, scheming and knee-deep in plans for what she will do when she becomes heda.

“Do you think it’s true the commander really died begging the healers for help?” Echo said aloud, trudging on through the slushing mud the other two had already conquered.

“Such talk is treason. The commander died honourably.”

“Such talk is the truth. You know as well as I do that Commander Artemis was not an honourable man, Lexa. After all it would seem we both shared a particular interest in Costia before she unfortunately slipped. I’m sure she told you too about some of his more… unusual requests.”

Lexa tensed into those words, reminded herself that love was weakness. The commander must be above weakness. The commander must be strong and unwavering and constant like an act of god. And yet for one moment, she was weak for Costia, the last commander’s favoured bed mistress. Her death was a blessing, her death was a reminder of  all the emotions she must rid herself of in order to lead well. Lexa told herself that when she watched her pyre burn well into the night from her bedroom window, throat sore and refusing herself the luxury of tears.

“Right,” She heard Echo laugh from behind. “It’s difficult to talk about treason when you were caught with your fingers inside the commander’s wh-“

Lexa didn’t skip a beat, she spun on her feet until her nose almost touched Echo’s, “If you finish that sentence.” She warned with glaring green eyes, instantly regretting the falter.

Echo raised her hands and pulled a funny expression, “The commander’s mistress.” She corrected with a wry smile, pleased with herself for rattling Lexa’s cage. “Commander Artemis was so generous to grant clemency to your crimes. I imagine none of us would have been so lucky.”

“That’s because Commander Artemis knew I am the best.” Lexa turned and continued to trudge along the rudimentary path.

“How sad that Costia took that unfortunate slip down the stairs. Then again she always did have her eyes where they weren’t meant to be…”

Lexa swallowed and walked ahead, she felt the sweat meet her brow. The ache of her grinding jaw. The sum total of her attempts not to rise to Echo’s bait. The dead were gone and the living are hungry, and Lexa, Lexa is alive and starving. She reminded herself of that fortunate blessing.

“Don’t let her get to you.” Anya murmured quietly and didn’t bother to turn around.

“I haven’t. I’m above it.” Lexa lied and remained stoic.

“I have a plan.” Anya said beneath the sounds of the forest, walking further in search of that faint scent. “I think we’re being drawn away from where Wanheda really is… if we split up…”

“No.” Lexa said quickly. “The respite from our rut won’t last long. If we split up we render ourselves vulnerable and we miss our window of opportunity. If we work together we have more chance of finding her.”

“Something tells me that isn’t going to be a problem…” Echo stared at the top of the verge.

There was a figure stood at the top, just a silhouette of a woman caught behind the setting light of the mountain. From her position Lexa could just about make out the white flyaway hair caught in the warm orange of the sky.

She is both grateful and gobsmacked, and Lexa isn’t sure how she can be both of those things at the same time. How she can want to scream at this girl to run away and live her life well. How she can want to be the first Alpha to chase her down and take her. How she can be all of that simultaneously.

“We would smell her.” Anya says dumbfounded too.

“She’s wearing a Beta’s coat…” Lexa appraised the familiar guard markings on the jacket as the Omega tentatively walked down towards them. “She must have killed one and took the clothes to mask her scent.”

Echo pulled her blade and sat her stance, ready to fight and ready to take. Lexa did the same, as did Anya, all of them growling and glancing at one another for someone to make a move while the Omega made her descent. 

“Listen to me,” Lexa tried beneath her growl, “she wouldn’t find us unless she had a plan, unless she had a way of stopping us from hurting her, if we act in haste we could ruin everything–”

“I’ll take my chances.” Echo ran first, scrambling up the verge towards Clarke.

Anya and Lexa chased after her, and out of the corner of her eye Lexa watched Clarke freeze and pull something by the handful out of her pocket. By the time she and her sister caught Echo’s ankles and pulled her back down, Clarke had already stuffed something inside of her mouth.

“Stop!” Clarke shouted with a full cheek and took a step closer with an open palm, showing them what she had. It made them all freeze, made Echo stop wrangling and Anya pull back the blade from her throat just slightly. “I have nightberries, enough to kill an army, I’d tell you to ask the guard I took these clothes from but he’s dead too.” Clarke said certainly and stood taller.

“What are you going to do? Kill us with dessert?” Echo furrowed her brows and laughed.

“No.” Clarke moved something around in her mouth, opening her lips to reveal berries on her tongue. “I’ll kill myself.”

All three of them grew wide eyed.

“I’m willing to bet you jumped the dam because without me, the rest of you will be killed for failing and they’ll choose an ambassador to become commander. I can’t fight all three of you and win, I know that, so call this an insurance policy. If any of you tries to kill another, or claim me against my will, I will eat these and we will all die together.” Clarke tossed a few loose berries at their feet as proof. “Everything you know about the conclave changes today, they’ll be no more killing. I will choose the best among you to claim me and take the throne, and anybody who has a problem with that can go and float yourself because I,” She jumped the last four feet, “am in charge now!”

“I think I’m in love.” Echo murmured and stared up at the steely Omega from beneath Lexa’s knee. 

 

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